The Glass Stranger
by Scarred
Summary: Under the job description of being William Traynor's caretaker, Lou never imagined she would be discussing her rape with him.


A/N: After watching the movie, I was upset when Lou's sexual assault wasn't included. I know there's only so much you can put in a two hour romantic movie, but I believed that this incident significantly impacted Lou and played a major part in how she developed. In the movie, Lou came off as being a "manic pixie dream girl" rather than the complex character that she is. I know Will and Lou have a discussion about her assault in the novel; however, I feel as if this topic is important and needs to be discussed further.

* * *

No matter how many times Lou brushed her teeth and rinsed out her mouth with the strongest mouthwash she found, she could still feel and taste that rancid stench caking her teeth and tongue. On the days where she couldn't handle it anymore, she looked at herself in the mirror and told her reflection, "It was your fault."

Other days, she could only give that same reflection a resigned, tired look, and set her toothbrush down on the counter. "I know," she murmured.

It was a daily ritual, ever since she was twenty, and that night. Brush her teeth, almost chug the mouthwash, and look at herself in the mirror. Lou counted to five and forced herself to look. The night after, she could barely recognize herself. Her mother called her name, her father told her jokes, and Treena was Treena. Treena was the one who first planted that thought in her head. That single, depreciating, disgusting thought.

 _What did you expect was going to happen if you got all drunk and floozy around men?_

Lou agreed with Treena, mostly to shut her up, and also because she was ashamed. "Don't tell Mum," Lou said, voice barely above a whisper.

Treena had snapped at her. "Of course I wasn't. Expect me to tell Mum you were passed around like a ruined doll?"

"I don't know what happened," Lou began. "Nothing might have—"

"Lou," Treena spat. "Of course it happened."

When they got home, Treena told her to jump in the shower, so she did. Like a damned cliché, Lou stood underneath the scalding spray until her skin turned pink.

* * *

When she was younger, her mother always fawned over her "unique" fashion sense. Lou's favorite article of clothing was her black and yellow striped leggings—like a bumblebee. Sometimes, Lou would even run around the house, buzzing like a bee. Her parents just laughed.

As she got older and, frankly, began to hang around with the wrong crowd, her clothing style changed. It reflected what the other girls were wearing. It was daring, provocative, and not subtle in the very least. They were paid attention to: Boys, men, found them attractive, and as young and as naive as Lou was, she wanted to be just like them.

Ever since that night in the maze, though, Lou never wanted to be like those girls again.

* * *

 _Why are you still here? It's your duty to get out and actually live._

 _Interesting choice of clothing you got there, Clark._

Every comment dug underneath her skin, but Lou could only bear a smile and snark back. Today wasn't the day. Not today.

* * *

Under the job description of being William Traynor's caretaker, Lou never imagined she would be discussing her rape with him.

"Nice shoes," Will said, scrunching his nose at Lou's jiggling legs. She paused and raised an eyebrow at him. "Is there a reason behind that, or are you being quirky for quirk's sake?"

Lou pursed her lips, feigning an attempt at consideration. "A reason behind what?" she asked, tipping her head to the side, challenging him.

"You know what I mean. Those shoes, and that… fuzzy jumper." Will knitted his brows together. "Did you kill a cat?"

"Shut up!" Lou laughed. She crossed her arms over her chest and rubbed at the offending jumper. "I happen to like it. And my shoes. They're comfortable."

"Not really easy on the eyes," Will retorted.

Lou kept her arms wrapped around herself and looked down, jiggling her legs again. She rolled her ankles, admiring her shoes. "They're not meant to be easy on the eyes."

"And why not? Isn't that what clothing is supposed to be? Appealing to people?"

"This is for me. I'm not dressing to impress anyone."

Will smiled. "As you can see, I'm not either."

"Definitely not," Lou replied. She slid off the ledge and fixed her skirt. Her arms returned to their position around herself. "Let's get you back inside. I'm not feeling particularly chatty anymore."

She began to walk back towards the house, Will following behind her. "Something the matter, Clark?" Lou didn't answer, and she could only hear the hum of Will's chair, like he was forcing it to catch up to Lou, to somehow swerve around and stop in front of her. "Is this about the shoes comment? I poke fun at something about you every day."

Lou stopped walking, and Will's chair bumped into her calves. She turned around and looked at him, attempting a small smile. "I know you do, and I try to do the same." She studied him for a second. "You have a cowlick right above your ear."

Will frowned. "Brutal, Clark. I can't even fix it, and you know that." Lou rolled her eyes and moved beside Will, lifting her hand to smooth down the patch of hair. She let her fingers linger, curling and combing them through his hair. "Was this about the quirky comment?" Will tried. Lou sighed and shook her head. "I'm attempting to have a conversation with you."

She dropped her hand and let her fingers curl into her palm. "I know you are, but I told you—" Lou stopped, letting her sentence trail off. Her stomach churned, and she looked away. Taking a steadying breath, Lou nodded once. "I'm fine, yeah? Now, like I said, let's go back inside."

Before she managed to turn away, Will inched his chair forward, cutting her off. Lou gave Will a look and pressed her lips together. "No," he said softly, gently, firmly. "You are going to sit down. I want to talk."

Her first instinct was to flee, but this was Will, and right now, he didn't look like he was going to mock her. She wet her lips and rubbed at the back of her neck. "I've never told anyone this," she began. Lou walked over to the nearby bench and sat down. Will moved beside her and kept silent. "Well, Treena… knows. Patrick doesn't even know." She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, but Will didn't seem like he was going to say anything. Lou continued and dug the tip of her shoe into the ground.

Should she come right out and say it? Was that proper? Or should she lead up to it?

The silence must have stretched on, as Will had managed to move his hand over, setting it on top of Lou's arm. She raised her head and gave Will a small smile, resting her hand over his. "When I was twenty," she started, "I was raped by a group of men in the castle's maze. I don't remember their names, and I don't care to. For months, years, I had nightmares about it. I couldn't shut my eyes unless I wanted to see their snarling faces and—" Lou sighed, closing her eyes. Even now, the remnants of that night clouded her mind. When she opened her eyes, Lou looked up at Will. "I can barely remember what happened, but I know _that_ did."

"Your parents…?" Will asked, the remainder of his question unsaid.

Lou shook her head. "Treena found me hours later. I was hanging out with the wrong group of girls. I got drunk… really drunk, and." She shrugged; she didn't have to finish. "I was ashamed for the longest time. Treena told me it was my fault. I should have anticipated this happening. I was drunk. I was dressed like a tart. I actually believed it was my fault, at least a fraction of it. I deserved part of the blame—"

"—Louisa," Will said. "No, it is absolutely not your fault. How can you possibly think that?"

Her stomach continued to churn. Tears pricked at her eyes. Lou lifted her hand and roughly wiped at her eyes with her sleeve. "Because that's all I was told. That's all what I was surrounded by. I heard stories about other assaults, and people made the nastiest comments. I was sucked into it. I couldn't help but wake up every morning, and look at myself in the mirror and be utterly disgusted with who that woman in the glass was. Who I was." She sniffed and rubbed at Will's hand, an instinctive attempt at comfort.

"It… changed everything. I was about to go off to school, but I withdrew. I stayed home, where I knew I would be safe. The world was unpredictable, scary… terrifying. If I stayed home, stayed in town, then I knew I would be safer than I would be if I went off. I would mind my behavior, and I would be safe. Every time I had to leave town or even the thought of leaving crossed my mind, I had to fight back the urge to scream and run in my bedroom, underneath my blankets." Lou laughed, shaking her head.

She caught Will's eye and pressed her lips together. "Laughter helps me cope," she muttered.

"Do you still get anxious?"

Lou began to nod. "Yes. Not as bad. When I get home after a trip or something, I do have to curl up in my bed. Most of the time it's after nine, so it seems acceptable."

Will gave her a smile, then. "Laughter helps me, too," he said, going back to her previous comment.

"If you want to hear about another way I coped, I went back to how my younger self dressed, practically. I would toss on any old thing that was comfortable. I could care less if it was proper or tacky. After that night, I wanted to look like the most unattractive girl in the world. I wore colorful clothes, patterned, striped, anything I could get my hands on. Even fuzzy jumpers. I didn't want to look appealing to anyone. I wanted to fly underneath everyone's radar. I was safer that way. If I looked like I got dressed in the dark, maybe someone would think I had something wrong with me, and would leave me alone." Lou frowned, looking down at the ground. "That's really all I wanted. To be left alone."

Lou kept quiet after that, staring into the distance. She could feel Will staring at her, but she didn't dare look. "Don't you think Patrick should know?" Will asked, his voice a bit strained. Lou carefully turned her head towards Will, looking at him. "Wouldn't he want to help? Do what I'm doing now? Letting you talk?"

She immediately shook her head. "No. He wouldn't understand. Or he would understand and want to cause something. Might even want to hunt the guys down and beat the shit out of them." Lou shivered and turned towards Will. "I don't want that. I want to put all of that behind me. Besides, I don't think you're going to beat the shit out of anyone." She smiled.

Will gave Lou a look, but ended up smiling back. After a moment, he asked, "Do you feel better?"

Lou kept her eyes on Will, watching him for a few seconds. She turned and looked ahead, beginning to nod. "Yeah, I do. It's better to have someone know. It's been… festering in me for six years, and at times I wanted to scream." She pulled her hand away from Will's and scratched at her forehead. "I especially wanted to scream every time Patrick fucked me, and he was just… over me, and it was suffocating, and I could barely breathe." She roughly swallowed and shook her head. "And he would come and pull out, and he wouldn't even ask if I had. He never asked, and he just rolled over and binned the rubber and fell asleep. I had to lie there for hours, looking up at the ceiling, not knowing if it would be weird if I snuck off to the bathroom and took a scalding shower. Wash off the sweat and grime that was on me. But I never moved from that bed, because I didn't want Patrick to talk to me. I would lie there for hours, sometimes thinking Patrick was one of those men, and I was twenty years old again, and I had to fight back tears and the urge to find something to end it all there." As she spoke, Lou found her voice rising, until she was feverishly talking, her voice almost a breathless scream.

She sat there and caught her breath, shutting her eyes and pressing her lips together. Lou lowered her hands and let them rest in her lap. Will kept quiet through Lou's spill, until he said, "Sometimes I feel like screaming, too. I know we're definitely not in the same situation, but it's so infuriating to be trapped and not know what to do." Lou rubbed at her eyes, seeing stars behind her eyelids. She turned her head towards Will. "I'm glad you told me, Lou," he murmured.

"Will," she whispered back, scooting over and leaning in to press their foreheads together. Lou stayed there, letting her hands hold his and take in his warmth. Will was here. Will understood. Will knew it wasn't her fault. It couldn't have been her fault. She had been at war with herself for years, tearing herself between what she believed and what Treena said. "I'm glad I told you." Lou slowly pulled away and studied Will, their noses touching.

They stayed like that for several minutes, soaking in each other's undivided attention. Will began to turn his head away, and Lou sat back on the bench, sheepishly looking away. "Have you been in the maze since then?" he asked carefully, as if he knew he was treading murky waters.

Lou shook her head, clasping her hands in her lap. "I've walked past, but never inside."

"Do you think you ever could?"

On any other day, Lou would have fled, shut herself away in her bedroom and hide her face underneath her pillow. She would think about anything else in the entire world, sometimes even nothing at all. Numbing silence was preferable to the chaos that echoed between her ears.

Today, Lou hesitated. She examined Will, the genuine concern etched on his face. For once, she considered it. "Maybe." She stood up. "I don't think I can today," she admitted.

Will smiled. "That's fine," he replied. He turned, then, wheeling back towards the door. "I think we agreed that I would pick the film today."

Lou watched Will enter the house with her lips pressed together in her own smile. She followed himself inside. "I don't think we agreed on that, Mr. Traynor."

* * *

That night, after brushing her teeth, Lou looked at her reflection. She gave herself a smile and brushed back a strand of hair. "It wasn't your fault," she said, verbally, for the first time in six years. Lou spun around and shut off the light. "I know."


End file.
